Sway
by SaitouMiharu
Summary: Phoenix, having been hit by a car, reflects on his bad luck. T for blood.


Sway

An Ace Attorney Fanfic

By Saitou Miharu

Phoenix crumpled and melted like a snowflake, thin and fragile, his damp hair plastered to the back of his head. His memories grew fuzzy, but after a moment, everything came flooding back: he'd just been hit by a car. Suddenly alert, the man winced as he struggled to sit up, then pressed his hands against the ground and stood, only to crash to the ground when his ankle wobbled beneath him.

"I must have broken it." he said aloud. No one responded; darkness was everywhere.

Slowly, he tried again, this time putting all his weight on his other leg. He leaned against the nearby telephone pole for support. Once he was standing, he tried to shift his weight back to the injured ankle—it was fine. Sprained, maybe, but fine. He slipped his hand into his pocket to get his phone, then checked the time; it was late. He _had_ been on his way to work, but it would be almost time to go home anyway by that point.

Nick sighed and instinctively touched his hat—it was wet. Curious, he slipped it off with one hand and held it into the light of the streetlamp overhead. The bright blue material was spattered with a deep red. It was then that he realized the dampness he'd felt in his hair was blood.

His hand found the source of bleeding, a dent that was still running. Dried blood was found all throughout his dark hair, matting it horribly. He wondered why the person who'd hit him with their vehicle had been so desperate to get away; he could have forgiven them if they'd just apologized and taken him to a hospital.

That reminded him, he _should_ go to a hospital. But Phoenix was really tired, and something told him he wouldn't get much rest having an IV stuffed up his wrist or being probed by curious hands as a middle-aged nurse asked him what had happened and what type of insurance he had. So he trudged forward in what he thought was the direction of the office before his ankle shook slightly, and added to his misplacement of weight on that leg, he found himself leaning against a gate, panting heavily. He eventually pried himself off and continued his trek homeward.

Trucy was probably asleep. She'd never know if he sneaked in, got a shower, and went to bed. Everything would be fine in the morning. Every problem, every pain.

It always turned out fine in the end; this was the theme of Phoenix's life. Ever since he was a child, trying to hold back tears in a classroom full of kids. Unbelieving children. Out of all of them, two had stood up for him: the quiet one, who kept to himself, and the idiot. His luck—or lack of it—continued throughout his life. Dahlia, whom he loved so dearly, the woman who peeled him off, threw him to the ground, and stomped on him. His boss, Mia Fey, found in the very office he now owned, bloody. All the trauma involved in losing his badge. He always worked so hard, harder than anyone else ever did, and yet his life was a never-ending storm of insult, death, and misery. But in return, he always made it through okay. He was always intact.

And for this he could be somewhat grateful.

He made it inside quietly by twisting the doorknob and pushing the door open, being careful, then twisting it again as he shut it. It hardly made a noise. Nick thought he was home-free until the lights flickered on and revealed Trucy standing there in all her ace-spade-heart-and-diamond pajama glory. Her arms were crossed, and her eyes were narrowed. If it weren't for what he knew was coming, Phoenix would have thought she looked cute.

_"Where _have you been?" she demanded.

"Not at work," Phoenix confessed, touching the back of his neck lightly with his hand. If this were a normal night, he'd have gotten in, gotten a shower, and gone to bed, with no interference from Trucy. "How did you know?"

"You didn't call me." she said. "You always call me once you get there."

Nick felt like kicking himself. There it was; his perfect plan, gone, because of one little phone call he never made. "Well, I'm really tired, I think I'll—"

"Is that blood?" Trucy gasped suddenly. Phoenix looked into her eyes, somehow so much like his own, and could see that she was looking at his left shoulder. He turned in the harsh florescent light—it was dimming his vision, after being outside in the dark all that time—and lifted the sleeve of the jacket to examine it. He hadn't noticed until this moment, but the blood dripping from his head was getting all over his jacket sleeve. He knew he should've pressed his jacket against it to stop the bleeding before coming home, or at least put his hat back on.

"Yes." he admitted. He deserved this.

"And you _didn't _go to the hospital?" She paused as Nick shook his head. "That's it. We're going, Daddy. _Right_ now." Nick didn't argue with her; she had too much zeal. To argue would be to make this at least twenty percent worse. He did, however, somehow manage to convince her to just call a cab instead of an ambulance.

On the drive there, a memory danced in his head; whether from the blood loss or some other cause, he wasn't sure. He remembered the last trial he'd been a part of, _his_ trial, with Apollo Justice as his lawyer. The boy had done a remarkable job. Now he wanted Apollo to help him again, to help rid him of some of this awful luck by finding the person who hit him with a car. Anything Justice could do—for anything, Phoenix would be happy.

No matter what disaster and turnabout followed him, he would gladly face it. And no matter how many times he got pushed down, Phoenix would stand back up.

XxXxX

Author's note: One-shot. Please review, thanks for reading!

Sincerely, Saitou


End file.
